A Difficult Decision
by savedatlast
Summary: Post season 8. Dean realizes he doesn't want Cas to leave this time... / for a first attempt it's turning out longer than I expected... oh gosh.
1. Chapter 1

While this is my first attempt at writing fanfic in over 6 years... It's also my first attempt at Destiel... Don't judge me too harshly :3

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As the impala cruises down the highway, they sit in relative silence. It's not a comfortable silence, and the tension is easily perceived even by Castiel, who has often been ignorant of such human states. It began half an hour ago while they were out on a grocery run for the bunker. Dean had gone quiet and pensive somewhere in the produce section and at first Castiel hadn't noticed the change in the shared atmosphere. When he asked Dean a question regarding what kind of pie they should get while traversing the baked goods, and Dean had replied with a short "I don't care" and then stalked off to mull over Sam's requested 12 grain bagels, he knew something was up. Dean is never flip about pie. It was then that Castiel really looked at his shopping partner. His shoulders had tensed up and it seemed as if he was thinking hard about something unpleasant. From afar it might look as though Dean was merely unimpressed with his brother's choice in breakfast food, but Castiel knew it was something else, something bigger. Castiel had tried to talk to him, but was met only with noncommittal gestures and a glare once or twice, and thereafter the uncomfortable silence had fallen swiftly.

The ex-angel now spares a furtive glance at Dean, not knowing what to say to move them past the strange and awkward situation in which they find themselves. Dean's knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel in an effort to maintain composure, and he hasn't made any indication in the past 20 or so minutes that he's going to open his mouth and start talking, so Cas decides he may as well give up. Once Dean shuts down, there's no getting him to talk. Maybe Castiel has read the signals wrong, and Dean merely wants to listen to the radio in peace and quiet; he knows how much Dean likes his music. It's far more likely that Castiel has once again misgauged human emotions. He returns to staring out the window and absently thinks that he should try to brush up on such things now that he, too, is human, when Dean snaps. He slams his hands down hard on the steering wheel, cursing loudly and making Cas jump. Cas whips his head around to stare attentively at Dean, who keeps glancing at him with a semi-embarassed look on his face, while still trying to watch the empty road ahead.

When Dean doesn't say anything else, Castiel takes the opportunity to further break the silence and ask, "Did I do something wrong?" Dean huffs in disbelief but only stares at the road, saying nothing. Castiel can feel frustration building up. Does Dean expect him to read his mind? Even if he was still an angel, he'd sworn never to do that. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares petulantly at Dean, waiting for some sort of proper response. It takes a moment for Dean to notice and when he does, a smile creeps onto his face and he releases his iron grip on the steering wheel to cover his mouth and stifle a laugh.

Castiel does not find this amusing. Nor does he relent, and continues to stare Dean down in an effort to make him talk. Eventually Dean's amusement subsides and he reverts to looking slightly embarrassed again. He shakes his head and says, "No, Cas. It's nothing." Castiel doesn't reply, but Dean catches the disbelieving raised eyebrow in his peripheral vision. They're treading into dangerous territory, and Dean doesn't think he's ready for this conversation. He tries to dissuade him by turning up the radio and clearing his face of any emotion, "Seriously. Just drop it, okay?"

Castiel scowls at him and then slouches in his seat and starts fiddling with one of the buttons on his recently cleaned but well worn trench coat. Dean tries to shrug it off and act like the brief exchange had all but not occurred, but the blatantly unimpressed look on his friend's face is giving way to resignation and - if Dean's not mistaken - a hint of dejection and it's almost too much to bear. He jabs the power button on the car stereo, cutting off a face-melting Jimmy Page guitar solo that for once wasn't improving his mood, and sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, suddenly tired. "Cas…."

The former angel looks up from his lap but doesn't turn to face him. Dean feels simultaneous relief and anguish. As preferable as it might be to have this conversation without Castiel's bright blue gaze burning a hole in the side of his head, he finds himself unnerved by the guy's uncharacteristic avoidance of eye contact. He swallows and it catches in his suddenly dry throat, as he struggles to find the words to continue.

Castiel notices Dean open and close his mouth a few times out of the corner of his eye, as if trying to convey something that his brain won't let out. Finally, Dean manages to say something, though it sounds as if he's miles away, "You're gonna leave again."

He chances a glance at Castiel, who hasn't moved, but his expression is something unreadable now. He continues with caution, "You're gonna leave… to go help those…," he falters because 'dicks with wings' doesn't seem to fit anymore. "I mean – you don't owe them anything…."

Castiel merely shakes his head, "They're my family, Dean. It's my fault they're here."

"Doesn't matter," Dean starts to say, but Cas cuts him off before he can finish his thought.

"I don't want to talk about this." He says curtly, as if he wasn't the one trying to get Dean to talk not five minutes ago. He crosses his arms and turns to stare out the passenger side window, signaling an end to the discussion.

Dean refuses to let it go that easily, "Well tough shit, Cas, because we're gonna talk about it anyway." He gets no reply, so he keeps going, hoping to evoke some sort of response from his friend, "and besides, what have they ever done for you?" Met with silence, Dean continues haltingly, "they might be your 'family' but they don't…they don't care about you like we… like I—" Dean stops himself before he says something he'll surely regret. He surreptitiously peeks over at Cas, who is looking down at the floor and has uncrossed his arms. His hands are balled into fists resting on the seat on either side of him. Dean runs a hand down his face again and takes a different angle, "What if they don't want your help. They might be pissed. It could get bloody."

There is silence again for a moment before Castiel says quietly, "Then it's nothing less than I deserve." Dean feels anger and frustration rising in his chest and fights the urge to punch the guy for not understanding, for thinking that everything is his fault, his responsibility. Besides, he knows all about blaming yourself for everything, even things outside of your control. He rubs a hand across his face again and, after a few moments' deliberation, settles on, "What about me?"

Castiel seems puzzled, and cants his head like a dog to a whistle, a sight which almost makes Dean laugh, but he remembers he didn't earn many points with his last show of amusement so he keeps it to himself.

"What do you mean?" Cas asks.

Dean can feel the red heat of blush creeping up his neck and tries his best to hide it, "I mean… aren't we family, too?"

Cas seems to consider this for a moment, then replies, "of course," which, despite being the preferred answer, does nothing to put Dean at ease.

It only makes him angrier that his best friend is choosing a bunch of indignant fallen angels who will likely want to lynch the guy, over Dean, who actually gives a shit about what happens to him.

"I wish you'd stay with me," Dean says softly, before realizing what he just admitted and turning a bright shade of crimson. Cas hasn't said anything, and he defers glancing over at the fallen angel for as long as he can, but finally curiosity gets the best of him. Cas' expression is hard to read, but it looks akin to shock. Panic begins to set in and Dean attempts to backtrack to a less mortifying point in the conversation."Look, I—"

"Pull over," Cas says stiffly. Dean avoids looking at him and briefly shakes his head, "we're almost there, let's just talk about this when we get back."

"Dean," Cas turns to glare intensely at him again and says in his low, gravelly, I'm-an-angel-of-the-lord voice "Pull over. Now."

And damn if that voice doesn't inspire Dean to obey, so he pulls off to the shoulder of the highway, regret and anxiety bubbling up inside him. He kills the engine and doesn't dare look at his friend for fear that he'll have disappeared like all the other times, even though he knows Cas no longer possesses the ability to do so.

When Castiel finally does speak, it startles Dean a bit to find out that he's still there.

"Look at me," he implores. Dean reluctantly unclasps his seatbelt and forces himself to turn toward Cas, but when he sees the telltale look of self-loathing beginning to surface on Cas' face he turns away again, unable to see those emotions in his friend when he knows them all too well in himself.

"Dean." Castiel slumps in his seat with a sigh, "I don't want to leave… but I have to."

Dean looks back at Cas and feels pain like a knife twisting in his chest. Cas holds his gaze, "Even if I did stay, what use could you possibly have for me?"

Dean stares as the knife wound quickly gives way to disbelief, not knowing quite how to respond. Cas drops his gaze, and Dean has the urge to take Cas' face in his hands and make him understand.

"Is that what you think?" he says, a bit sharper than he intended, and instantly regrets it when Cas recoils further.

"That you're just a – a tool to us – to me?" Cas raises his head and instead of looking at Dean, returns to staring out the window once more, shutting out the conversation.

Dean needs to make him understand.

He grabs Castiel's shoulder and yanks him around to face him. Cas flinches but then quickly adopts a passive expression, trying not to reveal any emotions underneath and failing miserably when his whole body starts vibrating instead. "I don't care if you think you deserve to die. Or if you think that you're to blame." Cas has gone rigid and is staring at some place behind Dean's head. Dean resists shaking him out of that state and continues, "But don't you dare think for one second that I'm going to let you go off and get yourself killed." Cas finally focuses his gaze on him then, and looks like he's going to protest.

Dean debates the pros and cons of what he's about to do for maybe a half second before he can't hold back any longer, and he leans forward to press his lips to Castiel's, effectively cutting off any chance for debate.

Cas seems to be frozen. He doesn't push Dean away but he doesn't reciprocate either. Dean's brain finally catches up with his actions, and he starts to panic. He pulls away, and after sparing a glance at the stunned ex-angel, runs a nervous hand through his hair and returns to staring out the window, anywhere but Cas. He closes his eyes when he hears the passenger seatbelt release and figures that he can't blame the guy for wanting to get out of the car and as far away from Dean as is humanly possible. He barely has time to mull over the fact that he just crossed a pretty big line, or register that the passenger door hasn't yet opened, before Castiel grabs him by the shoulders and practically leaps on top of him, knocking him backwards as his mouth meets Dean's with the enthusiasm he initially lacked but appears to have now found. Once the surprise and pain of being shoved against the door handle subside, Dean replies in kind. His hands grip Castiel's hips as he runs his tongue along the seam of Castiel's mouth, urging it to part for him. When it does, he makes a small satisfied sound that he might be embarrassed about if his brain wasn't currently exploding. Castiel, who seemed hesitant at first, harbours none of that apprehension now as he smooths a hand under Dean's shirt and across his stomach. Dean runs a hand through Castiel's perpetually messy hair as he tries to get closer. Their efforts are impeded by the steering wheel, among other things and Cas huffs impatiently before pulling away abruptly. Dean stares up at him warily, thinking maybe Cas changed his mind and no longer wants this to continue.

Castiel's eyes go dark and he clambers off of Dean and growls, "Back seat. Now."

Dean laughs with relief and mumbles "bossy," grabbing Cas' tie and pulling him down for another heated kiss before pushing himself up, and hastily climbing over the front seat, dragging his friend along with him.


	2. Chapter 2

They return to the bunker about an hour later, and are greeted by Sam, who had been reviewing angel lore in the library all afternoon. Upon hearing them come in, the taller Winchester puts his book down, rubs his tired eyes and stretches before heading over to help them carry groceries to the kitchen. However, when he catches sight of them, he stops dead. Castiel's dress shirt is un-tucked and missing a few buttons, and his hair is messier than usual. Dean's hair is half-sticking up and the other half looks as if it had been tamped down hurriedly. Sam's first thought is that maybe they'd been attacked while they were out, but once Sam gets a good look at their bright red faces and small guilty smiles, he figures the rest out pretty quick.

"So," Sam straightens up with a smirk and crosses his arms over his chest in mock-accusation. "What took you so long?"

Their twin smiles turn to almost identical looks of panic and Sam struggles to keep up the facade.

"Well, we... ran out of gas and had to walk a few miles to get some..." Dean mentally kicks himself for thinking that Sam would believe that he'd let his baby's tank run empty. He wracks his brain for any excuse they could give for why they were late. He nudges Cas in the side with his elbow. Cas, who has never been able to grasp the concept of improvised lying, merely looks at Dean like he's the strange one. Dean tries to give him a pointed look, but it doesn't seem to resonate. Sam clears his throat to get their attention and when Dean reluctantly turns back to his brother, Sam is giving them both a wide, teasing smile.

"Dean, it's okay. I meant what took you so long to get to..." He gestures at the two disheveled men, "this."

Dean turns brick red for the hundredth time that day and glowers at Sam, but visibly relaxes. Castiel gives Sam an appreciative smile and takes the groceries down the hall into the kitchen.

Before Dean can escape to the kitchen as well, Sam clasps a hand on his shoulder and nods, "Seriously, Dean. I'm happy for you." Dean flashes him a grateful half-smile and then plasters on a faux-macho expression and adjusts the bags in his arms and mumbles, "... thanks, Sammy," before practically running out of the room.

As Castiel methodically puts away the contents of the bags in their various homes around the kitchen, he starts thinking about the conversation that transpired earlier in the car. Dean wants him to stay. Castiel is more certain now than ever that he wants to stay with Dean, but he can't help feeling like he should do something to help his fallen brethren. His internal debate is interrupted when Dean enters the kitchen with the rest of the bags. They share a fleeting glance and return to putting away groceries until the task is finished. Dean flattens the paper bags for the recycling and then grabs two beers from the fridge, popping the caps, and beckons Cas to follow him into the next room. Dean passes a bottle off to Castiel before taking a seat at one of the chairs around the map table. Cas sits opposite him and wonders if this is going to be another trying conversation, though if he's being honest, he didn't at all mind the outcome of the last one. He feels a grin coming on, and takes a swig of beer in an effort to hide it. He suspects Dean noticed though, or is thinking the same thing he is, because he sees a smile pulling at the corners of Dean's mouth and it makes it harder to conceal his own. Before they are carried away with themselves, Dean clears his throat and says, "So. What's the plan?"

Castiel considers this. He still feels as if he ought to do something to help the angels, but certain recent events have swayed his once steady determination. "I don't know anymore," is all he can offer. "I still want to help, but I need to... rethink my strategy, perhaps." Dean still looks concerned, so Castiel tries to placate him further, "Perhaps it would be best to... to try and help them without leaving, this time." He sees the wave of relief flood Dean's features and tries not to feel guilty about his selfish decision to stay.

Sam loves his brother, and he's glad that he and Cas finally figured their shit out. That said, he doesn't want to walk in on anything that may scar him for the rest of his adult life, so he vacates the library, taking as many books as he can carry, and shuts himself up in his room. A few hours later and he's not making any headway. He closes the heavy book with a demoralized sigh, and it's then that he notices his stomach growling. He decides to take his chances and heads to the kitchen, holding one of the old tomes high in front of him, ready to block his vision at a moment's notice. He finds the kitchen mercifully empty, and sets about making a sandwich. It's curiously silent in the vicinity of the kitchen, and he decides to go back to the library to grab a couple more books before turning in. Sandwich in tow, he sneaks down the hall to the library. Dean and Castiel are sitting at one of the tables, each avidly reading a book from the stack between them that Sam had left behind. "Hey," he sets his plate down at an empty spot opposite them, "thought you two would have been off..." They both look up from their books to cast matching aggravated glares at him, and Sam leaves it alone and sits down, "never mind. What's the word?"

"I'm trying to figure out a way to help the angels," Cas says, eyes back to carefully running over the ancient text, "Without leaving this time." If Sam catches his brother's contented little half-smile at that last part, he says nothing. "Alright, sounds good," he takes a bite before reaching across the table to snatch one of the books off the pile. He opens the dusty cover and starts to glance over the script, but before he gets too far, he begins to feel like someone's gaze is burning a hole through his forehead. He glances up to see his brother staring at him with a very direct expression that screams 'go away'. Sam clears his throat and closes the book, piling a few more on top before grabbing his food and telling them he's going to turn in for the night. As he turns down the hallway back toward his room, he muses, "I wonder if there are any ear protectors in the shooting range."

After Sam goes to bed, Dean finds it increasingly difficult to focus on reading. Castiel is half-hidden by the stack of books that separates them, but every so often, when he finds something of note, he lets out a quiet, knowing hum. When he's not humming, Cas appears to have developed the habit of tapping his fingers on the table top to some indiscernible rhythm. With these distractions, and memories of that afternoon filling his mind and causing it to wander, Dean quickly decides that he's not going to get anything done tonight. He slams the dust-covered tome shut and leans back in his chair. Castiel, deep in concentration, appears not to have noticed. Dean almost doesn't want to disturb him. Almost.

"Cas," he rises and manoeuvres around the table to stand in front of his friend. "I'm going to bed." Castiel looks up finally, and squints at Dean, eyes wearing out. Dean waits expectantly, as what seems to be a flicker of recognition appears on Cas' face, but is gone just as quickly. "Goodnight, then," Castiel says blankly, and returns to his readings. Dean huffs an exasperated sigh and moves around to Castiel's side, reaching down to carefully close the book. Cas jerks his head up indignantly before he sees Dean's sly grin, and swiftly forgets why he was annoyed. Dean holds his hand out to Cas, who takes it cautiously, "You're coming with me."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean leads Castiel by the hand as they leave the library and head toward Dean's room. The confidence he had mere moments ago is fading fast and instead, butterflies appear to have taken up lodging in his stomach. He doesn't glance back at the fallen angel tagging along behind him quietly, the only evidence of his presence being the warm, strong grip of his hand and the soft shuffle of shoes on the stone floors. It's not the first time they'll be doing this, not even the first time today. Earlier, in the back seat of the impala, there hadn't been much time for deliberation. It had been hurried and desperate and they had to work with limited space and an abundance of clothing between them. While they may have temporarily satisfied their curiosity, they hadn't got very far. Now they have time, and Dean is feeling the pressure. He can feel his throat tighten and his shoulders raise defensively. Fortunately, he doesn't have time for a full-on freak-out before Cas is tugging on his hand, bringing them to a stop a few feet from the bedroom door.

Dean turns to face him, and tries to give Cas a confident smile, but can't bring himself to meet his eyes. Cas doesn't let go of his hand, even though they are no longer moving. Instead he gives it a small, reassuring squeeze and hesitantly reaches out with his other hand to lift Dean's chin up so that he has no choice but to look at him. Dean sees the soft, comforting expression on the face of the ex-angel standing before him and some of the butterflies seem to disappear. He tips his head toward Castiel's until their foreheads are resting against each other, and they stand like that for a moment, reacquainting themselves with the idea that this kind of thing is allowed now. Dean remembers what his brother said earlier, and can't help but wonder himself why it took them so long to get here.

Once all the butterflies have vacated, Dean becomes renewed with purpose. He pulls back a bit and leans down to brush his lips tentatively against Castiel's. This time, Cas doesn't hesitate. He takes a step forward, pressing their bodies together, and deepens the kiss with an exultant sigh. Dean responds fervently, licking at the seam of Castiel's mouth while fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him closer, pushing his own back against the wall. Cas' lips part and tongues meet for a brief moment, and then Castiel is tugging lightly on Dean's bottom lip with his teeth and Dean thinks he might lose it right then and there. So much so that he's unable to control the moan that escapes him. His jeans are becoming uncomfortably tight, and he suspects Castiel might be having similar problems if the hard object pressing into his thigh is any indication. Cas has one hand running through Dean's hair and the other cradling the back of his neck, and is now leaving feather light kisses along the curve of Dean's jaw. Dean presses his palms flat on Cas' chest and recaptures his mouth in another desperate kiss before reluctantly tearing away and pushing off the wall.

Castiel looks confused and a bit murderous for the half second before Dean grabs his hand and yanks him across the hall to the bedroom, pulling him inside, slamming the door, and pushing him against it. The guy somehow has the presence of mind to look mildly stunned before their lips collide eagerly once more. Dean rolls his hips into Cas' and grins when the movement elicits a gasp from his friend. He un-tucks Castiel's shirt and sets to work on the buttons as fast as his fingers will go, while Cas shoves his hands up the back of Dean's t-shirt to span them across his shoulder blades and down either side of his spine. They're grinding up against the door, Castiel mouthing at the base of Dean's neck, Dean pushing Cas' shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. They separate from the waist up for the few seconds it takes for Cas to pull Dean's shirt over his head and toss it aside, and then their hands are back to roaming over any bit of skin they can reach. Dean takes the opportunity to mouth and kiss and suck little bruises onto the skin at Cas' collarbone, while Cas sighs contentedly and grips Dean's hips tightly, keeping the friction where it's needed. As their mouths meet again and tongues take the time to explore, Dean begins taking steps back toward the bed, pulling Cas along with him.

Dean swivels them around as they reach the end of the bed, and gently pushes Cas back onto the mattress, allowing him to scoot up the bed a bit before crawling over him. He returns his attention to Cas' collarbone, lingering there a moment and then kissing a trail across to the other side. He reaches one hand toward the button of the suit trousers Cas is so fond of wearing and hesitates a fraction of a second, but his upstairs brain is no longer running things and he thumbs it open. Before he can tug the zipper down, a shaky hand covers his. He halts his ministrations and raises his head to take in Cas' apprehensive appearance.

"Cas?" Dean searches his friend's face, a few knots forming in his gut.

"I..." Cas' throat is tight and he swallows thickly and attempts to get the words out, "I don't really know how to do this." Apprehension turns to embarrassment as Castiel flashes a barely-there apologetic smile before adopting a look akin to anguish and covering his face with his hands. "Hey," Dean says softly, gently pulling a hand away and gripping it tight. "We'll figure it out as we go," he puts on a reassuring smile and waits with bated breath as his friend nods and beams up at him. Dean can't help but feel a bit relieved that he's not the only person in the room with anxieties. He gazes down at the once all-powerful soldier of Heaven beneath him, one who could smite you with just a look but a few weeks ago. His angel now looks so vulnerable and unsure, and Dean feels the overwhelming need to take care of him. To show him how important he is and how much his life is valued – powers or no powers.

Dean leans down and presses a chaste kiss to Castiel's forehead, to the tip of his nose, to each cheekbone where he can feel the content grin spreading across his friend's face. A quick press of lips to lips and then he's tracing a path down Cas' jaw, down his neck to his chest. Flicking his tongue out he tastes salt and sweat and Cas, revisiting the light bruises he left moments ago. He continues further down, ghosting over skin and pausing at a nipple, which he teases briefly with his tongue before gently clamping down on with his teeth. Cas' breath hitches, "Dean..." and he digs his fingertips into Dean's hips and bucks up involuntarily as his partner licks a stripe across his chest and repeats the process on the other side. Dean gives another sinful moan at the blessed friction and the sensation of Cas' hardness against his and instantly wishes there was less fabric between them. He returns to the task of divesting Cas of his pants, tugging at the zipper and attempting to shove them down. Cas lifts his hips off the mattress to allow the trousers to slide down and then kicks them off the end of the bed along with his shoes. Dean is now painfully aware of how constraining his jeans are, and almost sobs with joy when Cas has them unbuttoned and halfway down his legs in record time. He kicks his shoes off and shucks them down the rest of the way and they join Cas' trousers on the floor. Cas wraps his hands around the back of Dean's head and pulls him down for another kiss like he's running out of oxygen and this is the only way to get it. Dean senses the urgency and he reaches between them and palms Cas through his boxers. He feels more than hears the sharp intake of breath as Castiel steals more of his oxygen and cants his hips up to meet the touch. A shiver runs up Dean's spine when he feels how achingly hard and wet Cas already is, and he plots his next move accordingly. He breaks the kiss and is rewarded with an adorably indignant pout before he ducks his head and begins kissing and sucking a trail down Cas' chest and stomach, to the waistband of the white cotton boxers that are currently in his way. He glances up at Cas, who has propped himself up on his elbows to watch. Dean slips a finger beneath the waistband, and when it grazes the head of Castiel's cock, Cas throws his head back and releases a loud, low moan. Dean takes that bit of encouragement and runs with it, hooking another finger under the fabric, inching the shorts down Cas' thighs and tossing them aside, freeing Cas from any remaining constraints. He stands momentarily and sheds his own boxers, his breath hitching when sensitive skin meets chilled air. With nothing but space remaining between them; Dean crawls carefully back onto the bed as Cas eyes him hungrily. He stops halfway and kneels between Cas' splayed legs. Cas looks at him questioningly, but when Dean hooks a hand under one knee and lifts to press a light kiss to the inside of his thigh, his eyes go wide and his head rolls back again, hands grasping at the sheets. Dean continues to press soft kisses to Cas' inner thigh until he's covered the area, then he moves to the other leg to do the same thing, all the while keeping a close watch on the beautiful sight of Cas slowly falling to pieces before his eyes. Dean feels intense heat pooling low in his abdomen. He takes in Cas' steadily leaking cock and fluttering eyelids, and doesn't know how much longer either of them will last. He gently lowers the thigh he'd been attending to, and Cas' head snaps back up, irises almost completely blacked out. "Dean...please…."

Dean commends Castiel's ability for figuring things out on the fly, and rewards him by leaning down and licking a wet stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip. Cas' eyes flutter closed again and his head lolls forward, fists tightly grasping the bed sheet. As his legs begin to shake, Dean swathes his tongue around the head, quickly getting used to the salty tang of pre-come. Cas is now muttering under his breath, something that sounds like enochian, but the only thing Dean can recognize is his own name popping up every few words in perfect synch with the little involuntary upward jerks that Cas' hips are making. Dean smirks proudly at that and holds Cas' hips steady as he swiftly takes the length of him into his mouth and hollows out his cheeks, sucking lightly.

Cas is rendered speechless, only able to produce a small gasp when Dean's mouth envelops him completely, and then his vision starts to tunnel. He can feel every muscle in his body tense up and thinks perhaps he should be giving Dean some sort of indication that he's approaching climax, but he suspects Dean already knows as he can feel the hands on his hips tighten just before everything turns white. He feels his release punch through him, knocking the air out of his lungs as if he had just landed square on his back. At the same time he arrives at the conclusion that this is what Heaven should be like. His vision gradually returns to normal and he leans heavily on one arm, panting. He feels Dean swallow around him before pulling back and grinning at Cas, looking especially pleased with himself. Cas reaches out to wrap a hand around Dean's bicep and pull him closer. When Dean becomes within reach Cas greedily covers his mouth with his own and flips them over so Dean is now the one on his back. Cas probes and explores Dean's mouth again, determined to know everything, to map every inch of it and catalogue every desperate, content, or impatient sound that Dean makes while Cas conducts his research. Before long he remembers that his hands can also participate, and he reaches between them, wrapping a hand around Dean's still agonizingly hard cock. He feels Dean's body tense up. A fervent moan passes across their joined lips, and Castiel is pleased that he seems to be doing something right. He doesn't remove his hand; he leaves it there and continues to claim Dean's mouth as his rightful territory until Dean gives a small impatient huff and covers Cas' hand with his own, carefully moving it up and down the length, increasing in speed when Cas experimentally tightens his grip a bit. He can feel a warm liquid drip down onto their hands, making their movements slick and easy. He takes his free hand and rubs soothing, encouraging circles into Dean's lower back. He senses that Dean is close, and their hands move a bit faster. Dean's entire body is taut and shaking infinitesimally and he has to detatch himself from Castiel's mouth to catch his breath. Cas seizes the moment to explore elsewhere, and tentatively tugs on an earlobe with his teeth. That's apparently all the exploration Dean can handle and he comes with a choked out "Cas – fuck", more warm liquid spilling out over their hands. Cas brushes his free hand across the hunter's sweat-drenched forehead, pushing his hair back and pressing a warm, affectionate kiss to the peppering of freckles that lay there while Dean pants through his release. Both sated, they lie side by side on the mattress, breathing slowly returning to normal, hands still clasped together and resting between them. Once his brain checks back in, Dean rouses Cas to sit up and reposition themselves under the covers. They pull the sheets tight around them and lie facing each other, legs intertwined and fingers woven together, and fall asleep to the sounds of their slow, steady breathing.

Roughly twenty minutes after Sam is ousted from the library, he hears shoes shuffling in the hallway outside his room. They stop a ways past his door, but he doesn't hear his brother's or Cas' door close. What he does hear is enough to verify his decision to sleep in the dungeon. Or the shower room, or the freaking gun range. As soon as he hears the door of his brother's room slam closed and the muffled sound of someone being pushed against it, he moves quickly, snatching the pillow from his bed and a blanket from his closet. He cautiously open his door, poking his head out to make sure they've gone and then makes a beeline for the stairs, muttering curses under his breath.


End file.
